


Harry's Song

by disapparater



Series: Halloweens [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/disapparater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry spends Halloween sad and alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry's Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [day four](http://hd-writers.livejournal.com/255277.html) of hd_writers [Tricks for Treats](http://hd-writers.livejournal.com/253604.html) using all three prompts.

When the song stopped, Harry reached over and pressed the play button to start it over again. Then he sat back on the sofa and didn't move for three and a half minutes. When the song finished, he pulled himself out of the back of the sofa and pressed play. The ritual continued all morning: Press play, relax, listen/mope, reach, press play, relax...

Harry did get up a few times. He made himself several cups of tea during the day, which also meant he got up several times to use the toilet.

He was happy in his unhappy state. He enjoyed moping. He _wanted_ to mope.

It was late afternoon when Harry's fire flared, disrupting his finely-tuned ritual, and Hermione stepped out.

“Harry!” She eyed his rumpled pyjama bottoms, old t-shirt and array of dirty mugs. “You're nowhere near being ready.”

“I'm not going, Hermione.” In a feeble attempt to drown out Hermione's protests, Harry took a large noisy slurp of his almost-cold tea.

“Of course you are, it'll be good for you. It'll be good for all of us, after last year.”

Harry looked up at her, realising he was being insensitive. “How are you doing?”

“Good.” She nodded. “Tonight will be hard; I can't make it a compulsory sober occasion like I did for my birthday, but once I've made it to tomorrow I'll be one year sober.”

“Good for you.” Harry smiled for the first time in days.

“Well,” she said, “there's nothing like a frantic night searching for you and Draco to sober me up enough to know I should sober up permanently.” She laughed while Harry cringed. Having his friends find him and Draco asleep in the attic at 4:00 am was not the highlight of last year's party.

“And how's Ron? Why isn't he here with you?”

“He's got his weight watcher's meeting this afternoon, and you know he _never_ misses a meeting.”

Harry smiled again at the memory of his best friend attending a Muggle weight loss group full of middle-aged women. It was doing him good, though; he even chewed his food nowadays.

“It's nice to see you smile.” Hermione settled down on the sofa next to Harry even as Harry reached out for the play button. “I don't know if you've done that since Draco left. Oh, Harry do you _have_ to listen to this song over and over? It's depressing.”

“I'm depressed. I miss him, Hermione.”

“I know you do. I understand, but this song is a little extreme, isn't it?” She stopped to listen to a few of the lyrics. “I mean, really. ' _Seems like tragedy’s at hand_ '? ' _The worst is just around the bend_ '?”

“Don't make fun of me, Hermione, I'm too fragile at the minute.”

“Harry, Draco's away on business for a week, don't you think you're overreacting?”

Harry pouted. “No.”

“He's been away before and you haven't sulked like a teenager with a broken heart. What's so different this time?” Suddenly Hermione looked worried. “He _is_ just away on business, right? He _didn't_ break your heart?”

“Of course he didn't; he's coming back in a day or two.”

“Then what the bloody hell is the matter?” Hermione's patience, often shorter now she was on the wagon, had obviously been tested.

Harry decided to go with the truth, despite how pathetic he knew it sounded. “This will be the first Halloween we've not spent together since we became a couple.” He hunched in on himself in embarrassment—right after he'd pressed play again.

“Oh, Harry.” Now Hermione just sounded exasperated.

Before she could berate him, Harry jumped in. “I know it's stupid to get so emotional over it, but I can't help it, okay? I haven't tried to force my unsociability on anyone. In fact I'm consciously trying to _not_ inflict myself on people: you chose to come here, remember. I just want a quiet Halloween on my own. Tell Ron and Pansy and everyone hello, but I'm _not_ coming to the party.”

They were silent for a while. Long enough for the song to end and total silence to engulf the room.

Eventually Hermione sighed, but relented. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. If that's what you want, you soppy sod.” As she spoke she ruffled his hair, and Harry pretended not to notice her wipe her hand on the sofa afterwards (he may not have washed for a couple of days; moping took so much energy).

“Thank you. I hope you all have fun, though. Bring me back some sweets from the party?”

“Don't you have sweets here? I know Draco buys some weeks in advance, because he knows how much you like gumdrop ghosts.”

At that, Harry couldn't help but blush. “He, er—Before he left, he hid them.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if he's not here to ration me, he knows I'd eat a whole bag at a time.”

Hermione shook her head as she got up from the sofa. Harry still hadn't re-started the song, having decided to save Hermione the pain, and found he was just as sad without it.

“Well, Harry, enjoy your evening of sulking. _I_ definitely can't wait for Draco to get back, now.” She moved over to the fireplace and Harry stuck his tongue out at her back. “Don't be rude,” she said before she threw some powder on the fire. “See you soon.” And she was gone.

Heaving a sigh as he hoisted himself from the sofa, Harry made the decision _not_ to replay the song. It _was_ pretty depressing. He gazed out of the window, watching the light slowly dim as night approached. He thought about getting another cup of tea and going to bed.

He didn't know how long he stood there, or why he hadn't reacted to the sound of the fireplace flaring again. But he closed his eyes as cold hands slipped around his waste from behind and a chin rested on his shoulder. Harry couldn't believe it was real until Draco whispered in his ear.

“I missed you; I'm sorry. I couldn't not be here—today.”

Harry smiled and gripped the arms that surrounded him. “Thank you.”

Draco placed a kiss under Harry's ear and Harry could feel him smile.

“Do you want to go to the party or stay in?” Draco asked against Harry's skin.

“Stay in.”

Instead of answering, Draco smiled again and carried on kissing Harry's neck.

Harry opened his eyes, hoping to see their reflections in the window. Instead he noticed some crows out on their front lawn. It was dark enough outside that street lights had started to come on, but Harry could see the group of crows clearly. Except they weren't called that. Harry racked his brain, but found thinking difficult as Draco continued to mouth the skin at his neck.

“A murder of crows!” Harry said aloud as it came to him.

Draco's kissing suddenly stopped. “Who's murdering crows?”

“No, outside; a group—a _murder_ —of crows.”

As they both looked, the crows could be seen clawing and pecking at a particular spot on the ground, clambering over each other and batting their wings to find a place.

“Oh, shit!” Draco cried before disentangling himself from Harry and making for the door.

“What is it?” Harry asked after him.

Draco's answer was yelled as he flung open the front door and dashed out to the lawn.

“That's where I buried the sweets!”


End file.
